Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Today is the shortest day of the year, thus the darkest. There has been alot of darkness in this world this year, with nature striking back, and a unjust war raging. Hopefully, tonight the pagans and witches of the world can dispel the darkness of nature and the soul, and pray that the lengthening of the days will bring a new prosperity of goodness and warmth to the world. The Sun's return will hopefully warm the hearts of all mankind. May you and yours have a very Happy Holy Yuletide!

Thursday, December 15, 2005

I was just reading a really fun article at CNN.com, "Talking sex with Mom - Sep 28, 2005" by Anderson Cooper. I hadn't realized before I read it that Gloria Vanderbilt was his mom. That had to be one hellova childhood! I have followed him on CNN for awhile. His reports on Hurricane Katrina, and currently, the Iraqi elections, have been some of the best in TV journalism, a genre that hasn't been the most impressive lately. Here is a man, though raised in the world of wealth and influence, who chose to be a war correspondent, even when he probably could have chosen any employment in the halls of power. He certainly doesn't mind getting his hands dirty to get the story. Smart, brave men turn me on, and this one is on the top of my list. Salute!

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

I love Salon.com, for its sane and progressive attitude. Cary Tennis has a "Dear Abby" sort of column there, and this particular article touched me deeply. The question was: how does a woman handle a boyfriend who is freaked out about her sexual past. The woman's boyfriend, from the reader's telling, considered her dirty and "impure" and wanted her to fix her past (?!?). Here, in it's entirety, is the response:

"You are not a product. You do not have an expiration date. You are not sold used or new. Your value does not go down with every sexual experience. You do not have a finite capacity, like a phone card, after which you are used up.

Neither are you a substance that can be pure or impure. You are no less pure now than when you were born. You will never be less pure than you are right now.

Nor are you an object upon which men have left marks that your boyfriend may discover and interpret. You are not a public place were things are written for others to read. You are not an exotic land that men have visited and reminisce about in comfortable chairs.

You are not a collection of experiences like snapshots in an album, subject to perusal and approval by your boyfriend.

Your past is not a term paper for him to grade. Your past is not something that needs to be repaired. You can't get up on top of it with a ladder and fix it like a roof. You can't do anything about it except regard it with awed attention. It is like the sea, far beyond us, far too deep, far too wide, far too powerful.

You are not a product, or a substance, or an object. You are not any of these things. For want of a better term, you are a creature, a spiritual being.

We are creatures of flesh and light and movement. We go through life. Things happen. We do things. We remember things. Things hurt us, things delight us, things frighten us. We go on. We describe the things that have happened to us and look for the light of understanding in someone's eyes. We are creatures who love and hate. We love and hate and are loved and hated and we go on.

Our past is not a map on our skin, visible to the male gaze. Our past is something we tell. Once we tell it, people sometimes turn away. They can't bear it. They're not strong enough. They have to find the strength. We can't give them the strength. They ask us to put the past back in the past, but we can't do that either. Once we tell it, it's with us in the present.

So tell your boyfriend to lay off with all this talk. Tell him to get some wisdom and some understanding. Tell him to get some humility and some awe. Tell him to go sit by the sea and think about it for days on end until his head hurts and he's thirsty and all he wants is you -- however you are, whoever you are, wherever you've been, whatever you've done."

I, who have dealt with a shady past, appreciate this answer, even though my situation is different than the readers. This answer reaffirms, to all women, that who and what we are is sacrosanct, and not to be judged by imperfect people, no matter if you love them or not. I find it inspiring.

Monday, December 12, 2005

When people start relationships, they often wish the ghosts of relationships past would disappear. Unrealistic of me, but I was one of them. Daniel and I had a tiff last night over something trivial ( I feel now). He wanted to search for something on the internet, I knew another way of searching for it, and I annoyed him. Showing his emotional maturity, he walked out of the room until he cooled off. Now, if I had any emotional maturity, I would have been ok. But instead, that one adult act of him walking out until he controlled his temper sent me on a tail spin. I shook and cried, and it made it all worse. What should have been a situation where we just stuck our tongues out at each other or flipped each other off turned into a big production. Here's where the ghosts come in.

My late husband John had a temper. He was also very emotionally manipulative. He would stomp off at the least provocation, the least jealousy, and then give me the emotional cold shoulder for hours. He would sleep on the couch, and do everything in his power to make me feel small, for whatever offence. There were times in our marriage where we lived thousands of miles away from my family, and I don't make close friends easily, so I rarely had anyone to talk to when he did this. I would sit in empty rooms, feeling mortified and lonely and scared that he would just walk out and leave me in an isolated place so far away from help. The tables turned when he got sick and was dependent on me, and he did apologize for his behavior before he died. Scars on the psyche usually stay on the soul, and "I'm Sorry" normally isn't a strong enough salve to make them go away.

So, when Daniel walked out of the room, and wouldn't immediately return when I called, it sent a shockwave reaction right into the pit of my stomach. It was like a flashback. I instantly went into this "I'm-sorry-I-wont-do-it-again" appeasement-victim mode, sobbing. Daniel held me when I cried, and I tried to explain why I was so upset over something so stupid. He did rightly by assuring me that there was nothing to fear, he wasn't John. And he begged me not to be on eggshells with him, afraid of upsetting him. This is why I am writing this, to work it out so I never treat him that way. I know I am always safe with Daniel. It just triggered emotions I thought I had buried after John's death.

I love you Daniel, you are my rock. Just please be patient with your silly, skittish fiancee. She's afraid of Ghosts.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

I've been thinking deeply about a program I just watched on PBS, The Appalachians. The vast places I have been in the last 16 years doesn't amaze me as much as the fact that I came back. My teenage life in Martin County, KY was pretty hellish. The mountains weren't beautiful to me, they were ugly, grey, strip mined prison walls in winter, and, it always seemed to be winter. We heated with a coal burning stove; I am allergic to smoke. Thus, I was perpetually sick, either with colds or upper respiratory infections. The smell of coal and wood smoke still make me nauseous. We lived 10 miles away from school, and the road to Inez was a curvy mess. So, I got carsick twice a day, to and back from school. The people around me not only didn't care about who I was, they resented who I was. They didn't care about the outside world, and there was nothing that could do or say to convince me what there was to give a damn about there. As soon as I could, I got out.

And I proceeded to almost get a college education ( I am a 1 1/2 year shy of a degree), and, get married to a man from a vastly different region from my experience(Connecticut). Then, I traveled. I was in Savannah, GA, long enough to grow to love, and still long for, the live oaks and and beautiful southern accents ( so much more elegant than my Appalachian guttural, as I heard it.). We moved cross country by train, and I grew to love Portland, OR and its blissful progressiveness. We then moved to Jackson, WY, and I saw how much one could be swallowed by the mere revelation that is the Teton mountain range. Finally we ended up in Key West, where I grew to love the freethinking lifestyle, and the Conch people, who will truly give you the very shirt on their backs in times of trouble. I ended back in Lexington, KY, after my husbands death, and thought it was punishment to be back in my home state. I grew used to Lex, it was a college town with all the arts and amenities I liked. But I also grew stale, and reckless from the stagnation. Then, came Daniel.

Daniel has also lived all over the country, and also married outside his home base. He ended up back home. The day he invited me to move in with him, to Pikeville, I cried. I tried my best to get him to Lexington, but I now know it wasn't meant to be. The Goddess has a plan, and it was Her plan to put me back here. Back amongst the demons I thought were still here. I was so very wrong. Pikeville has blossomed, it isn't the same place I remember from high school trips here. I was scared because I thought that the goblins of my youth were still here. All I had ever felt here before was oppression, impotence, and hopelessness. I have come to realize, tonight, after watching The Appalachians, is:* I am my own woman, not helpless. I control what I think and feel. I feel empowered now that I am back here living on my own terms. I will make this place into what I chose. I am a witch, an artist, a swinger, and liberal. I will mold this place to fit me, not the other way around.* This program shocked me into realizing the richness of culture that was here to begin with. The Scot-Irish that settled here, and from which Daniel and I both sprung from, also made their own life here, by their own rules. They either brought, or created anew, their own art. It humbled me that these very brave, independent people sought this area out as a spiritual and cultural haven for them and their offspring. I feel that, in so many ways, I have disgraced that heritage. I can live my life by my principles, as they did, and respect their sacrifice.

So, I have had my eyes opened once again. I intend to concentrate on learning the mountain arts the best I can, to the best of my ability, to do my part to honor my ancestors with the skill I have, that came from them all along.

Friday, December 02, 2005

...before I start getting phone calls from Richard Simmons? I feel huge, and ugly. I can't seem to stop eating. I don't know if its where I'm just getting used to being alone a lot, or subtle depression, or what. I hate to look in the mirror. I can't help but thinking back on those happy months where I was a honest to goodness runner, as some of my long suffering readers will remember. I was also on a MUCH higher dose of anti depressants. I've been trying to fight the urge to call Mountain Com. (the local mental health dept. for people with no insurance) to try to see about adjusting my meds. What the fuck is the matter with me?

"I don't know how you feel, but I'm pretty sick of church people. You know what they ought to do with churches? Tax them. If holy people are so interested in politics, government, and public policy, let them pay the price of admission like everybody else. The Catholic Church alone could wipe out the national debt if all you did was tax their real estate."-George Carlin-

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

"This is it, folks. This is the idea which has kept me virtually unknown for the past 16 years. I have watched my crowds dwindle. I am going nowhere, and nowhere quick, but, those of you who have children, I am sorry to tell you this, but they are not special. Wait! I know some of you are going "what, what?" Let me just clarify: I know YOU think they're special ... ha ha ha! I'm aware of that. I'm just here to tell you, that they're NOT! Ha ha ha ha! Sorry. Did you know that every time a guy comes he comes two-hundred million sperm? One out of TWO-HUNDRED MILLION – that load, we're only talking about one load – connected: gee, what are the fucking odds? Do you know what that means?
I've wiped nations off've my chest with a grey gymsock.
ENTIRE CIVILISATIONS HAVE FLAKED AND CRUSTED IN THE HAIR AROUND MY NAVEL! [...]
I've tossed universes in my underpants while napping. Boom! A Milkyway shoots into my jockeyshorts:
"Unngh ... what's for fucking breakfast?!"

I actually feel like I look like utter shit. I have become a noodle since I quit working a typical job. I should be out walking, learning my surroundings. I am not. It seems that I have completely caved into my agoraphobia. I simply do not want to leave the house, not even to check the mail ( I check it about every other day). My little inner Crab is delighting in the supreme feeling of safety. I am gaining weight, but can't seem to summon the energy to move. I have caved into the chronic fatigue, because I have no driving reason,that my survival depends on, to make me leave this apartment. My mind, however, is screaming for company. Everyday I wait for IMs, so I can connect with people. I should have this house ready for me to start painting, but I am behind. I feel defeated.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Oh...
Oh...
When in the springtime of the year
When the trees are crowned with leaves
When the askhand oak,
And the birch and yew
Are dressed in ribbons fair.
When owls call the breathless moon
In the blue veil of the night
The shadows of the trees appear
Amidst the lantern light.
We've been rambling all the night
And sometime of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gay
Who will go down to those shady groves
And summon the shadows there
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms
In the springtime of the year
The songs of birds seem to fill the wood
That when the fiddler plays
All their voices can be heard
Long past their woodland days
We've been rambling all the night
And sometime of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gay
And so they linked their
Hands and danced
Round in circles and in rows
And so the journey of the night descends
When all the shades are gone
A garland gay we bring you here
And at your door we stand
It is a sprout well budded out
The work of Our {Lady's} hand
We've been rambling all the night
And sometime of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gay
We've been rambling all the night
And sometime of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gay

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

The Alchera Project (http://www.alcheraproject.com) is a website that makes you think about the stuff you put in your blog/site. Once a month, the blogger chooses from one of several options for writing, then submits it. Since, I feel, my blog has grown stale from all the excitement happening elsewhere, I am going to participate. Here is this month's assignment:

"Free-write/Option No. Three: [ top ]This month I'm going to be more specific with the free write option. Every now and then something will trigger a memory for me, one that I'd completely forgotten. Sometimes the trigger is a smell, a song or even just overhearing someone talking. Seeing as this happens to me a few times a month, at least, I hope it works like that for everyone else. If not, my apologies. Usually I remember something and then the next day I've completely forgotten about it again. So this month, if an old memory is triggered, try to write it down and then come back to it later, when you have the time, and free-write on it."

My memory happened this evening, after a long-delayed call to my biological father. His voice, after not hearing it for so long (almost a year) sent me spinning back to the 11 years he was in my life. He always moved around from place to place, so I vividly recalled a time where he had decided to just pack up and move from West Virginia to Colorado, on a whim it seemed. My sister and I were young, 9 and 7 years old, and had been forced to throw all of our precious childhood things into plastic bags. We were not allowed to tell anyone from school we were leaving until the very last minute. We had been up very late the night before the move, then got up early to go to school. Then, after the day ended, we were driving on to Colorado. We walked from the playground to the car. I opened the door and ordered my younger sister in, which she said no to. "Get in the car!" "No you get in!" began as grumpy orders and escalated to all out, full shrieking. After what seemed to be several minutes of this, my father jumped out, threw us in the car and drove off before the principle could walk over and see what was wrong. We sobbed hysterically, literally just wailed, for a half hour after we got in. I remember my father saying, "Aww, they are just a little stressed, they will get over it." to my (obvious to me now) pissed off mother. I am astonished now on just how callus he was, not caring about the affects all the moving caused, or the trauma to our psyches. disappeared when I was 11, and I never talked to him again until I was 28. And to this day, he is clueless about this incident, and in fact claims not to remember it at all.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

I know I have been neglectful of my blogging recently. I have been trying to figure out my new life and get it as organized as possible. I've been trying to change over from singleton to partnered. There are things I never understood clearly, until now.

It is a good thing I like my own company...

My poor Daniel has worked several 16 hour shifts in the past week and a half. During the week, I might see him roughly 4 hours a day if that. For that reason alone I'm glad I'm here. He would work himself into the ground, and not take care of himself. At least with me here he had clean clothes, fresh food, and a warm place to sleep. I still feel guilty that I benefit more from the fruits of his labor than he does. Hopefully, once I get everything organized, it will be better.

Sleep deprivation can be a good thing...Daniel leaves for work at 2PM, he returns at 4AM on regular nights, barring overtime. In order to spend more time with him, I've been attempting to get on his schedule, with mixed results. It takes me back to the time where I worked 2nd shift, and changed over to a 8am-4:30PM job. The sleep disruption then was horrendous. I was getting 3 hours of sleep a day trying to crowbar my internal clock into submission to the new order. Now, I'm changing back to my much-loved night owl ways, yet it seems just as hard as when I changed it the first time. Who knew getting to sleep in would be so tough?

Getting used to the lay of the land...I haven't gotten out to explore my new surroundings yet. I've been doing aerobics on Fittv, and haven't ventured into a stroll around the new hood. I seem to be in a nesting phase, where this little Cancer loves being in her shell. Eventually I will go out on foot and explore Pikeville on foot one end to the other. Right now, I am happiest indoors.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

I bet all of you, in my preoccupation with all things move and wedding related, thought I had forgotten the most important holiday on the Witches calendar. No so. In fact, it has been a constant thought these past days leading up to it. I will never be too busy for my faith. I laugh at the goals I had from last year, since I met none of them. But there are a few things I want to mention.

What I am thankful for:Daniel, because he genuinely proved I could love again.My painting, because I realize I do have an ability that should not be wasted.My health, even though it has been fragileMy family, who have welcomed Daniel as one of their own.Daniel's family, who has equally embraced me.

AND (deep breath), the three things I want to accomplish in the new year:Get married (April 2006)Be pregnant this time next year, since time's a wastin'And a repeat from last year, have a show of my paintings ready.

Friday, October 28, 2005

I don't know when the the modern American Woman would lose this mania about being princess brides, but dammit I wish it would end soon. I would like to remind my long suffering readers one thing, especially the ones who have never met me in person: I am 34 years old, been married once before, and am not a small woman. Thus, I will look pretty frigging ridiculous in a wedding dress that looks like this huge frou frou nightmare. You have all seen them: strapless bodice and zaftig puffy swirling skirts. The ballgown nightmares. These dresses are meant for the 22 year old first timers with grandeur issues. Hells bells, all I want is a dress that is sexy, flattering, and has some color on it. Is that so much to ask for? Apparently so.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

ARIES (March 21-April 19): Some of the most confounding enigmas about
the human condition might be explained if the theory of reincarnation
were valid. I invite you to spend the next week trying it on for size.
There's no need to become a true believer. Just experiment with the
possibility. Imagine that you've lived many times before and will
return to Earth in fresh bodies in future centuries. How might a belief
in your own immortality change the way you live from day to day?
Analyze your recurring dreams, your curious obsessions, and your
favorite historical eras for clues to other identities you may have
inhabited these last 10,000 years. Halloween costume suggestion: the
person you were in a previous incarnation.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Astronomers have recently discovered four
objects beyond the orbit of Pluto that might be considered planets.
Only one, Sedna, has a formal name thus far. While awaiting their
official designation from the International Astronomical Union, the
others are being referred to as Santa, Easterbunny, and Xena (as in
TV's "Warrior Princess"). According to my meditations, these three are
in cahoots with the sign of the Bull right now, meaning that you might
have maximum success if you blend the qualities inherent in their
archetypes. So be fiercely generous, Taurus. Unleash your instinctual
fertility. Fight hard for abundance. Celebrate strong versions of the
feminine. Draw inspiration from playful myths. Halloween costume
suggestions: Ninja Santa, Xena Claus, Samurai Easter Bunny.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20): In Greek mythology, Achilles was a great
warrior who, through magic, became almost completely impervious to
injury. When he was a baby, his mother dipped him upside-down into the
River Styx, making him superhuman except in the one part of his body
that did not get immersed: his heel, by which his mom held him. To this
day, the term "Achilles heel" refers to a person's unique vulnerability
or weakness. Pay special attention to your personal Achilles heel in
the coming weeks, Gemini. Take vigorous measures to heal, protect, and
strengthen it. Halloween costume suggestions: Achilles wearing armored
boots or Athena shod with platform shoes that resemble small army
tanks.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): According to an old Tibetan saying, "It is
better to live one year in the life of a tiger than 100 years in the
life of a sheep." I'm not saying you're a sheep, Cancerian, but I do
believe you haven't allowed yourself to enjoy nearly enough experiences
as a tiger. It so happens that it's a perfect astrological time to make
up for lost time. May I suggest that you turn into the human equivalent
of a big, fast, wild feline? Halloween costume recommendations: tiger,
panther, leopard, lion.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): The old days and old ways are still subtly
influencing every move you make, both for better and for worse. I urge
you, therefore, to revisit the life you left behind and try to recall
the language you used to speak back then. Find out if there's
unfinished business that's preventing you from claiming the freedom you
need in order to pursue a future dream. Halloween costume suggestions:
a time traveler, a ghost buster, an Indiana Jones-like adventurer in
quest of ancient treasure.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): "There are nine different words in Maya for
the color blue, but just three Spanish translations," wrote Earl
Shorris in *Harper's,* "leaving six butterflies that can be seen only
by the Maya." This idea suggests two important implications that you
should take to heart in the coming weeks. First, the words you use can
actually shape your perceptions. Second, as your vocabulary expands,
you become aware of aspects of reality that have been hidden from you,
and you develop a greater capacity to distinguish between experiences
that are superficially alike. Halloween costume suggestion: a butterfly
colored nine different shades of blue.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Even though Americans comprise five percent
of the world's population, they use one-third of its resources and
generate half of its hazardous waste. Canadians, Australians, and New
Zealanders are a little less extravagant, but not so much that they can
brag. Profligacy on this scale is not only terrible for the planet and
our descendants, but also bad for the perpetrators. Your first
assignment this week, Libra, is to identify ways in which you
personally participate in this greed and excess. Your second assignment
is to analyze how it might be damaging to your mental and physical
health. Your third task: Do something about it! You now have an
unusually high potential for drawing deep satisfaction from simple,
inexpensive pleasures. Halloween costume suggestions: monk, nun,
garbage collector, Greenpeace activist.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): I was sitting in the dingy restaurant of a
bus station in Washington, D.C. A burned-out speed freak at the next
table looked at me with a lunatic smile and said, "I'm King of the
Universe. I don't know what the hell I'm doing in a place like this."
The dude was obviously not a Scorpio, because you Scorpios rarely
suffer from delusions about your own excellence. You may imagine you're
*worse* than you really are, but not the reverse. According to my
reading of the astrological omens, then, your growing confidence in
your own capacities is almost certainly based on objective truth.
Halloween costume suggestion: King or Queen of the Universe.

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Every one of us has a monstrous side--a
part of the psyche that snarls and bites, that's ugly and irrational,
that is motivated by ill will and twisted passions. That's the bad
news. The good news is that you're in a phase when you have exceptional
power to soothe and pacify the beast within you. Your first step, in my
opinion, should be to get it to express its preternatural vigor in a
safe setting where it can't hurt anyone, not even you. That's why I
suggest you encourage it to dance. Put on music it likes, give it a
wide berth, and let it flail and careen and whirl until it has vented
all of its aggression. Halloween costume suggestion: your inner
monster.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): "Happy the person who can endure both the
highest and the lowest fortune," said the Roman writer and orator
Seneca. "He who weathers such vicissitudes with equanimity has deprived
misfortune of its power." According to my analysis of the astrological
omens, Capricorn, you are currently having an encounter with the first
thing mentioned in Seneca's formula--the highest fortune. May you
navigate your way through this phase of lucky abundance without falling
victim to arrogance, carelessness, or insensitivity. Halloween costume
suggestion: a lottery winner doling out gifts.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): "Any serious writer hopes that the best of
his or her product will contribute to the larger store of hope that has
continually been accruing in this form, the written word, since the
dawn of literate civilization," wrote Dennis Holt in his newsletter,
"Operation Green Candle." "Good writing is hopeful," he concluded. Your
next assignment is inspired by this theory, Aquarius. Whatever your
special talents are, act as if you have a duty to use them to inspire
hope--to feed people's dreams, engender visions of glorious
possibilities, and honor everything that's working really well.
Halloween costume suggestions: Johnny Appleseed, Oprah, Mahatma Gandhi,
Martin Luther King Jr., Helen Keller.

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): In *The Mastery of Awareness,* Kristopher
Raphael writes that the old Toltec word *mitote* was used to describe a
chaotic marketplace where scores of people jabber at each other without
listening. He says the same term also referred to the state of the
average person's mind: a multitude of voices with different agendas,
each promoting its own desires while barely acknowledging the others.
If you are even partially caught in the throes of this kind of
*mitote,* Pisces, it's an excellent time to take corrective action. I
suggest you convene a summit meeting of all your various selves. Give
each a respectful hearing, and find a goal or two they can all agree
on. Halloween costume suggestion: Be Siamese twins (or triplets), with
each character embodying one of your subpersonalities.

Monday, October 24, 2005

I have been looking at the pictures online in a growing state of horror. The whole island of Key West is flooded. My old neighborhood near the Casa Marina (http://www.casamarinakeywest.com/) was about chest deep in water. Hurricane Wilma, doing exactly what was forecast, brought about the expected results. Duval Street is knee deep in gulf waves. Truman Avenue is awash, as well as Kennedy. The airport is floating away. The Conchs, natives of Key West, are too damn stubborn to leave. There will probably be no Fantasy Fest this year. I was crushed when New Orleans was devastated, but, Sweet Merciful Goddess, Key West too? Humanity is doing its best to destroy this planet with our foul waters, poisoned air. Anybody stop to consider Mother Earth is PISSED!?! I have no doubts that Key West will renew herself, she always does. But this planet, that's another question.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

This will probably come as a complete shock: instead of Daniel moving to Lexington, I will be moving to Pikeville, as of Nov. 2005. Hey, nobody is more surprised than I am. I long time ago, during a more hurtful time, I *swore* I would never live in Eastern Kentucky EVER AGAIN!!!!. That was 1995, and 10 years can transform a person.

It happened like this. We sat down and took a hard look at our budget, Lexington v/s Pikeville. Together in Lexington, our combined pay would be 1800 a month. In Pikeville, Daniel's pay is easily 3000, by himself. So I decided, after some long thinking, that maybe I would be better off in Pikeville. Yes, there is a downside. I cant drive, so until I do I will be stuck at home while Daniel works (2nd shift). Even though Pikeville is now a thriving metropolis compared to what it used to be, it isn't as big as Lexington. No walking to the Dame for concerts. No Kentucky Theatre for artys fartsy movies. And, since I wont be able to work outside of the house until I can drive, no outside money. Daniel will be supporting me, and that may be a bit tough for my pride to handle.

The pluses; I will be with Daniel, and Ill be able to try to be a painter full time. I am actually going to be able to hang the moniker Artist beside my name. Daniel is willing to support me, to let me try. I am thrilled and scared to death. I have no excuses to to be what I've always wanted to be. I am also going to try to start a eBay business, selling things for other people. I will be a scarily independent woman.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Remember, long suffering readers, the post I did in early April about a certain guy that I was scared of then and engaged to now? I thought Id repost that first post for shits and giggles.

"Sunday, April 10, 2005
Daniel
YIKES!!!

I'm having a full blown, Danger Will Robinson moment. I went to a swing party in Prestonsburg, KY this weekend to bartend and play. I have decided not to do the second job during swing parties. It was suggested to me by a wise reader that I needed to have a spiritual-sexual outlet, and the swing parties will be it. So Mr. Cool, shackup, and myself got to Jenny Wiley State Park
(http://parks.ky.gov/jwiley2.htm) around 7 ish to met up with our friends who were hosting the party. Mr. Cool had rented a cabin beside theirs so the party could overflow one to the other. Anyway, we walked in and along with our friends there was a local there who was interested in the group: Daniel. He was, at first look, about my age, 5'9ish, dark hair and eyes. I was looking at him and warning bells started ringing, which I took note of but didn't really listen to. We started talking about computers, which snowballed to witchcraft (He had studied it) and books (we ended up having read the same obscure ones). More alarm bells, and more dismissal of them. He ended up getting stuck behind some parked cars and stayed talking to 3am. The next day I went hiking with more friends, but kept thinking about him. I decided if I played, he was going to be it. Daniel had another party so he didn't show up until later that night. As for the party, I bartened for tips, had lots of guys flirt. It was a good time. Then he walked through the door about midnight. I made it a point to close the bar at 12:30. There was another guy wanting to play with me, but he had been with 3 others in the space of 5 hours, so I wasn't interested. This guy persisted, so I caught Daniel in the bathroom and asked if he wanted to meet me outside to go to the other cabin and play. He agreed to my delight, and we went to the other cabin.

Now long-suffering readers will remember the incredibly good time I had at the Valentine's day dance with Tyler. Daniel turned into being a million times better. I was in heaven for 2 hours. Then we ended up at the other cabin with a room to ourselves, and ended up collapsing at 6 am. He was loving and kind and there was a chemistry there I hadn't felt in a LONG TIME, hence the warning alarms. I have been home about an hour and already got a quick note from him. He doesn't know that I'm an escort. He lives in John's Creek, 3 hours away from me. There are so many many ways this could kick the shit out of my heart. Daniel is the first guy I have had this feeling about in a long long time. All I can think is that he has the potential to turn my crazy world even more upside down. And yet....I am waiting for his IM feeling wistful: and ignoring those damn mental alarms:P"

Friday, October 14, 2005

I believe everyone who reads this knows I was born and raised in Eastern Kentucky. Inez, Ky to be exact, population 466 (SALUTE! {please forgive the HEE HAW references, but they are warranted}) One of my elderly great aunts, Elsie, passed away this weekend, and for the sake of my grandmother, I went to the funeral. Well to begin with, Elsie had 11 kids: 7 boys, 4 girls, all of varying common sense. The eldest, Earl, whose property Elsie' s late husband is buried on, has a beef with the rest of the family. So Saturday, when the male members of the family went up to dig the grave on what was believed to be the family cemetery, Earl and two of his sons met them with guns drawn, and kicked them off the property. Later that evening, when the rest of the family was trying to figure out where to bury Elsie, one of Earl's sons, accompanied by a girlfriend, came to the church. These two, apparently pretty damn stupid, started talking trash and promptly got their asses kicked as they were escorted off church property.

So, for Monday's funeral, tensions were high. Daniel, who also grew up in the Appalachian culture, was very nervous about me attending. Since there are so many in that branch of the family (yes, my family tree does branch, contrary to what this story illustrates) that do not recognize me, I wasn't worried about them shooting at a apparent stranger. I was concerned about keeping my grandmother, mother, sister/brother-in-law, and direct aunts and uncles safe. Well, as soon as we arrived at the church, we found out that a shootout had occurred already. One of the younger boys in that family, Carl D., had went to Earl's, for what reason we never found out, and it ended with guns blazing and Carl D. being led away in handcuffs by the KY state police. The officer was nice enough to bring Carl D. to the church right before the service started, with a packed house present, to let him say his goodbyes to his mother. This, in turn, made everyone in the church hysterical, begging the officer to let Carl D. stay for the funeral. Which, of course, he couldn't do.

I noticed tow very obvious things I hadn't really noticed before during the service: my grandmother's frailty and strength, and my own mother's fear. As of Elsie's passing, my grandmother became the oldest living of all her brothers and sisters (14 originally, 9 still remaining). She looked old to me, for the first time, and yet, she was still in better shape than two of her sisters Mary and Wilma. Mary is in a wheelchair after a stroke, Wilma has liver cancer. Even though I stood by my grandmother as she went to the casket, she was strong enough even in grief, to walk out of the church unassisted (this woman gave birth to 11 children, she has had to be tough). My mothers reaction surprised me. She held my hand during the service in what I can only describe as a death grip. She was gritting her teeth. She then noticed my stare and whispered simply that soon they would have to bury my grandmother this way. I think it was a very sudden revelation to my mother about her own mother's mortality. One day I will have to have the same epiphany, but not for some time yet I hope.

So the funeral went off without a hitch. The last snafu was that the funeral director insisted on a police escort to the gravesite (which ended up being in Elsie's own yard, a mile away from her husband's grave), police cover at the burial itself, and a police escort out of the holler. After all the shooting, the sheriff's department didn't see this as an unwise request and granted it. Because of the fear that the burial would be accompanied by shotguns, only two of her children and a few of her sisters were at the grave. My grandmother simply said it was time to tend to the living, so we went to cook an early supper at her house, then we rushed back to civilization.

Sigh, I know that these are my people and my blood, and I try not to judge them or put them down for their circumstances. It just makes me sad that this family has deteriorated to this base a level.

* One final note; the rest of Elsie's children have decided to get a court order to have Elsie's husband's body exhumed and transferred to be buried beside her. The argument is, rightly, that the whole family has a right to visit the body. Which means more gunfire when they go to dig poor Bill up. As for Carl D., he was arranged on charges of wanton endangerment and bailed out.He is awaiting trial.

From The Paintsville (KY) Herald:"Elsie Daniel1932-2005 Funeral services were held Monday, October 10, 1 p.m. at the Sulphur Springs United Baptist Church at Tomahawk, Ky., for Elsie Daniel, 73, of Tomahawk, Ky., who passed away Saturday, October 8 in Portsmouth, Ohio. Mrs. Daniel was born March 13, 1932 in Martin County, Ky., daughter of the late John C. and Janie Meade Mollette. She was also preceded in death by her husband, Willie Daniel. Surviving are seven sons, Earl, Jimmy, Willie Jr., John, and Caroll Daniel, all of Tomahawk, Ky., Truman Daniel of Lowmansville, Ky., and Tom Daniel of Inez, Ky.; four daughters, Virginia Preston of Paintsville, Ky., Jean Pridmore and Tammy Wallace, both of Louisa, Ky., and Pauline Harmon of Tomahawk, Ky.; seven sisters, Nada Williamson [my grandmother] and Coreen Preece, both of Inez, Ky., Gladys [long Polish name I cant pronounce either]of Detroit, Mich., Mary Armintrout of Indiana, Hester Francis of Columbus, Ohio, Wilma Moore of Tomahawk, Ky., and Maxine Marcum of Blaine, Ky.; two brothers, Clinton Mollette of Tomahawk, Ky., and Arland Mollette of Inez, Ky.; and 33 grandchildren and 18 great-grandchildren.The service was officiated by Riley Maynard, with burial in the Daniel Cemetery at Tomahawk, Ky.Arrangements under the direction of the Phelps & Son Funeral Home of Inez, Ky.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

On this particular day I'm feeling wonky, so I'll do the updates in little snippets that are more chewable...:

*Instead of Daniel moving here, I am moving to Pikeville. We did the math and together in Lex we would be making 1800 a month. In Pikeville he makes close to 3000 a month. And, he loves his job there. Thus, I am moving there. I will have time to pursue the eBay business idea I have, plus the art business. The most important this is that I would be with Daniel, who I would follow into the 7 circles of Hell if I had to.

* I'm back on the meds. It was inevitable. I just quit functioning. So back to normalcy as I know it.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

I think I stopped escorting at the worst possible time-right before a move. I am broke, terribly so. I need a new couch and bed, but I'm not getting them. We are trying to budget the best we can, but all these up front costs are killing me. I'm thinking of having a big ass yard sale, but no time. ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!! I have moved roughly 20 times in my adult life, and you would think Id be good at it by now. LOL

Thursday, September 29, 2005

I had decided after many days of soul searching, do remove myself from my meds, then I chickened out. I cant risk all the things I have rebuilt, including Daniel. SO I'm waiting for a call from my Dr. to advise me the best way to go about this, and what it will take to right the ship. Daniel and I just talked and he assured me I wouldn't lose him by trying this. In just told him this momentous news right as he was waking up. I had to or I would have chickened out. So I promised the next time I threw a news grenade at him, Id yell a heads up first LOL.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Do not go after the past,
Nor lose yourself in the future.
For the past no longer exists,
And the future is not yet here.
By looking deeply at things just as they are,
In this moment, here and now,
The seeker lives calmly and freely.
You should be attentive today,
For waiting until tomorrow is too late.
Death can come and take us by surprise--
How can we gainsay it?
The one who knows
How to live attentively
Night and day
Is the one who knows
The best way to be independent.

"Writing is a lot like sex. At first you do it because you like it. Then you find yourself doing it for a few close friends and people you like. But if you're any good at all...you end up doing it for money." - Unknown

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

*CAVEAT: some of the next part of the story I am remembering the best way I can, I was really upset and tired and hurting when the next part happened, so I will try to be as exact as possible, in the name of fairness*

Sometime about 11PM, Daniel walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me and asked me if I was ok with the whole situation. Um....I started shaking and the first tears rolled. So we walked back to our room and closed the door and the sobbing began, And I let spew forth as much as I could make coherent between sobs. I told him my fears about the lady, I told him I didn't think it was a good idea to propose to me and still play. So he said that's fine, Ill propose another time. That made it worse, because I wanted to be proposed to that night. It finally broke down to him saying I didn't want to be in the lifestyle anymore because I never played at parties anymore, and that him playing made him look like an ass (see previous posts). That in turn made me feel even more shitty and the crying got worse. The he asked me if I even wanted him to play with this lady. I couldn't answer him, he took it as no and walked out to tell her. That pretty much finished me for the night. I tried to finish bartending but I couldn't I was crying so hard. I was so hurt and miserable. Wayne, my friend and partner in the bar, took over while I went back to a back room to try to calm down. I was hurt that she was there in the first place, hurt that he didn't truly understand what I was thinking and trying to tell him concerning her. I was frustrated that I couldn't make him understand the pain of the withdrawal was making the emotions worse. I felt I FELT LIKE A HYSTERICAL, JEALOUS SHREW THAT WAS BEING A BIG BABY. A bit later he came back to the room and held me so I calmed down enough to wash up and go to sleep. He came to bed and we made love and I felt safe again.

I know that most of the problems was a lack of communication on my part, as well as my perception being skewered. Daniel has asked me to talk to this lady, and I have. We have never said a cross word to each other. And I won't tell him he can't play with her, that is his decision. Al I wanted was to have my concerns acknowledged, and he has. Now what happens, happens. I love this man and I just want to protect him from all things that can harm him or our relationship. However, I can't go too far, or the only threat to our future will be me. But, I won't quit listening to my intuition, it has protected me and has worked. So we shall see. He is moving here to be with me, we want to get married and we will. We want to have children, and we will. And (this is for you Daniel) I want to reaffirm my belief in this lifestyle. Swinging is respect and freedom and I am committed to staying in it, contrary to my recent behavior that may be seen as otherwise. All I need is to get through this transition, and all will be better.

Monday, September 19, 2005

We had a swing party in Prestonsburg, Ky this weekend for our club. Daniel was hosting his first party, and I was bartending/representing the owner of the club. I was tired and miserably sick from both the withdrawal from Wellbutrin and the fibromyalgia. However, I am proud to the point of stupidity, so I tried to show as little of this as possible. Most of the day I had been getting rumblings that this would be the night Daniel would propose to me. We had the ring already, and most of our friends were there to begin with. Made sense to me. Daniel, sometime that afternoon, told me that a lady he had played with at Rocker's was coming up to the party, intending ONLY to play with him. Remember the previous post about gut feelings about women who have the capability to go nutso? The sirens were screaming loud for this one. Did I tell Daniel my fears? No, because I had no proof; she had always been nice but kind of cool to me, and she is married. So I generally assumed( never do this PLEASE), that since he was going to play he wasn't going to propose to me. Now I don't know why I felt so strongly about wanting him not to play the night he proposed. I was wacky from the withdrawal, and had a crazy-stupid romantic notion that the one night he proposed he wouldn't want anyone but me. So I was already disappointed and hurt before the party even started. Did I show it-no. Did I tell him my expectations-no. Like I said, I'm proud to the point of stupid.The party started pretty well. I was stressed from trying to get the bar organized, but not overly so. Most everybody knew of my med situation, and were trying to keep me relaxed. The aforementioned lady showed up when Daniel had left for awhile, and though she was nice to me and I was nice to her, the alarm bells were screeching. Daniel got back and was playing host and talking, of course paying attention to her. I ignored the screeching and tended bar, but the projectile hissy fit was building. Daniel was showing my engagement ring to everyone, and it hit me hard that he just might propose to me, and he still wanted to play, with her. Ouch, big time. I was on the edge of maintaining my fragile emotional state. LOL it didn't last.

To set this story up, I need to tell two other stories first.1)When John and I were working in Wyoming, he worked with a female Sous chef. She was friendly but I got a gut feeling she was wanting more than she could have from John. She would accidentally show up at certain places we were ( we later found from friends she was asking others about our location at certain times). She would do silly things at work so that he would have to stay late to work with her. She would show up at our apartment at weird times uninvited, or she would bug John to come over to her place to "hang out" (not including me in the invite). I told John about this gut feeling that she was trouble, but he just couldn't see it. He thought she was just being friendly. It got to the point that, after we both confronted her, she got mean and would leave letters, make phone calls and hang up, etc. Life was generally tense with her till the season ended and we left for Key West (parts unknown to her). He would get an occasional email from her, half flirtatious, half reproachful, until he died. So I have great trust in my intuition when it comes to other women and they wanting more than is offered from the men in my life. It already had happened once concerning a girl Daniel was playing with, who turned out to be psycho. My gut is usually never wrong about such things, even if it takes awhile for the proof to manifest.

2) I have never had a proper proposal of marriage. John proposed to me in the back seat of a car on the way back from a road trip in July, 1995, by saying "Hey, can we go get married soon?" And what I mean by "proper" is on one knee, romantic and wonderful. It was after the third time asking in the space of 6 weeks I finally relented, in late August. We were married in Sept., 1995 (another post for another time).

3) As I have stated in a previous post, I'm changing meds, and am wont to be extremely emotional and quite unable to control these emotions. I cry like a running faucet at the least provocation, despite my best efforts to try to maintain composure.

This quote made me laugh, it was so true. Since I haven't posted for so long, most are out of the loop about my antidepressant situation. Simply, and as they are wont to do, my Wellbutrin quit working. This happens periodically, as my long time readers will know, happened about this time last year. Last year, there was no alternative meds available, so I had to go off the meds then restart them after a month. That was not a pleasant experience. This year, a new med called Cymbalta has been released that helps with depression AND fibromyalgia pain. WOO HOO! However, the same shitty experience has to be dealt with: tapering off the Wellbutrin. Even though it had quit working, it still hurts like hell to slowly wean ones self away. Now I can't even begin to dare to presume how horrible it is to withdrawal from other drugs, but antidepressants are pretty bad enough.

For one, your judgment is skewered. I am a walking, open seeping wound. The least remark, the most minor things annoy the hell out of me at best, tear my heart out at the worst. My poor baby Daniel is having to deal with this. All the things that meant nothing to me a month ago are now ripping at me. The biggest thing: sex. This is how I first could tell I was maxing out the Wellbutrin, I had lost interest in having sex with others who I wasn't well acquainted with first. This has effectively shut down the escort business, and that really doesn't break my heart any. It makes swing parties miserable as well, for two reasons: I don't feel like playing and that makes me feel guilty for letting Daniel down, and makes Daniel feel guilty for playing even though I have told him to do so. I just don't want anyone who isn't very close to me to touch me. No one new interests me. There are couples that only swap with other couples, and I don't feel like wanting a strange man to touch me, so that effectively knocks Daniel out of playing. This isn't putting too much of a strain on us so far, but it hurts me deeply to disappoint him.

Phobias that tend never be in my nature surface when I'm either maxing out of meds or tapering.The updated list: http://www.phobialist.com/reverse.htmlAnything new- Neophobiabeing severely criticized- RhabdophobiaCrowds -Enochlophobia, Demophobia or OchlophobiaNoises, loud- LigyrophobiaPlaces, crowded public- AgoraphobiaStrangers - XenophobiaThis normally will right itself when the new meds....but my patience wears thin. I just have to maintain until I have righted myself again and hope I don't drive Daniel away in the process.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Dearest John,At 12:23PM today, it will have been three years since you have been gone. I am not the same woman you married, and I don't even know if you would like the woman I am now, much less love her. I have learned in your absence how low I can go, and how very base I can be. I have learned how to lie, cheat and steal very very well. I have sunk into the very pit of ugliness the human soul can dive to. And yet....

I have learned that pride is a very useless, trite thing, and that if I want to be generous, I need to let others be too. I have learned how to make less go way more. I have discovered I am a good artist. I have made very deep, loyal friends who love and respect me, despite the numerous flaws. I have discovered I am beautiful despite all the things I tell myself to the contrary, just like you said. And like you told me, I have survived your passing. I have survived it, not with the grace I would have liked, but I have.

As you also have said, I have moved on with my life. You would like Daniel, he is a wonderful man. He's not as jealous as you were, but just as kind and generous. He's also younger than I, which probably makes you laugh. We plan to marry and have children and plan a life together. It was marriage with you that prepared me for this new life, never forget that.

So I get ready to spend the day with Daniel, know that even though the distance in time keeps growing, you are always as close as a thought.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

In 9 days time, it will be the third anniversary of John's death. Last year I wrote a long extended series about his death. It was cathartic. But this past year my life has been blessed with joy and healing. Thus, I will be writing anecdotes and stories celebrating his life, his humor and stubbornness. Here is the first....

I met John at a Society for Creative Anachronisms event in Cincinnati, OH, on Feb. 1995. He was my friend LJ's dad. LJ and I were heavily into the SCA, and he suggested that we meet his dad, who lived in Cincy with his ex wife (who I never met, but the child they had, Jocelyn, is a wonder). LJ looked a lot like his dad, but he didn't talk much. He told me later he didn't know what to say to me; he was tongue tied. The may of the same year, John moved to Lexington to be closer to LJ. That's when I realized the whole quiet guy thing was a ruse. He was verbose and volatile, and funny. For the first two weeks, he was really nice, always seeming to have some little gift for me whenever he saw me. I thought that was weird, but didn't ponder on it much.

After being in town, John and I and a few friends decided to go to Lynaugh's for dinner. John proceeded to get sloppy, shitfaced drunk. He was hysterical. We all went back to LJ's that night and it was summer so I was on the porch. John came out to join me, and launched into this monologue about how he -was-always-a-gentleman-he-never-got-fresh speech. Of course he was drunk and this was coming out of left field. After about 20 minutes when he paused for breath I asked him what his point was. He looked surprised, then shamefaced then asked, "Well, since I've been a gentleman up to now...Do you want to 'fool around'"!A feather could have knocked me over. I had no clue he was interested in me that way. I just considered him a friend, nothing remotely more. I kind of stammered I'd have to think about it, and fled the porch headed for home, kinda stunned. I was a virgin pretending I wasn't one so my friends wouldn't think I was a freak. I was not quite 24. I had know idea what my answer was going to be.

I was watching the news footage about Hurricane Katrina this morning online. There was a man with a small child, howling with grief when the news crew walked up. They asked where he had been; on top of a roof with his wife and family he tells them. "But where is your wife?"they ask. He sobbs that they cant find her body, that he tried to hold onto her but she slipped. Right before she lost her grasp she tells him to take care for their children and grandchildren. The she sank out of sight.There was so much devastation that it overwhelms you and numbs you. But that one news cast will haunt me for I don't know how long. This is what people need to see, the human cost.How you can help:

Monday, August 29, 2005

Daniel and I have tried to keep a steady, every weekend visiting policy. He's been with me the past two weekends, and its been heaven. It is getting so painful to see him go, and it's always traumatic each time. I used to think people who tried to keep long distance love going were dumb to waste their time, and masochistic. LOL let me enter the club, because now I understand.We are talking about deep, important things now: marriage, children, future. Our life views are amusingly different on so many things. He has a Protestant work ethic, whereas I will work like a Protestant only if the work has meaning. I tend to let stress either bounce off like water or just pile up until I have a huge anxiety attack, but Daniel hits it head on like a challenge.

The biggest thing is that he worries that I will fall out of love with him. I was crying on the way home from breakfast Sunday because: 1) He was leaving sooner than I had anticipated, since our friend who he was taking home needed to leave, and 2) My antidepressants aren't working that well and I've been crying at toilet paper commercials. It was the first time I'd let myself cry in front of him, the biggest sign of love and trust there is. If I cry in front of you, then I trust you enough not to hurt me, because when I cry, I am an open wound. He asked me if this was a "breaking up" kind of cry, which made me cry harder because it was the farthest thing from my mind. I wanted to keep him by my side, as long as I could, and short of cutting his tires or removing his distributor cap, I was helpless to make him stay.

Daniel,I can honestly say that I have had two great loves in my life: John, and now you. I told you last night that I don't fall out of love, I just reshuffle people on my love hierarchy. You fill my heart, and will be there as long as I am breathing. I was scared to have children with John, and I never told him that. I am not scared to have them with you. In fact, this is the very first time in my life I have wanted to have a child this badly, and ONLY with you. You have such a caring, loving soul. Your are as wise as you are passionate ( and for a Scorpio passion is paramount so.....). To say you complete me is pretty damn cliche, but you bring out the very best in me, how's that ( saying you had me at hello is also true but pretty bad too...I hated Jerry McGuire). I just know life is too short, and I want things sooner rather than later, so I need patience. But know that I love you, you are my all.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

I've said before that every craftsman searches for what's not there to practice his craft.A builder looks for the rotten hole where the roof caved in. A water-carrier picks the empty pot. A carpenter stops at the house with no door.

Workers rush toward some hint of emptiness, which they then start to fill. Their hope, though, is for emptiness, so don't think you must avoid it. It contains what you need! Dear soul, if you were not friends with the vast nothing inside, why would you always be casting you net into it, and waiting so patiently?

This invisible ocean has given you such abundance, but still you call it "death", that which provides you sustenance and work.

God has allowed some magical reversal to occur, so that you see the scorpion pit as an object of desire, and all the beautiful expanse around it, as dangerous and swarming with snakes.This is how strange your fear of death and emptiness is, and how perverse the attachment to what you want.

Now that you've heard me on your misapprehensions, dear friend, listen to Attar's story on the same subject.

He strung the pearls of this about King Mahmud, how among the spoils of his Indian campaign there was a Hindu boy, whom he adopted as a son. He educated and provided royally for the boy and later made him vice-regent, seated on a gold throne beside himself.

One day he found the young man weeping.. "Why are you crying? You're the companion of an emperor! The entire nation is ranged out before you like stars that you can command!"

The young man replied, "I am remembering my mother and father, and how they scared me as a child with threats of you! 'Uh-oh, he's headed for King Mahmud's court! Nothing could be more hellish!' Where are they now when they should see me sitting here?"

This incident is about your fear of changing. You are the Hindu boy. Mahmud, which means Praise to the End, is the spirit's poverty or emptiness.

The mother and father are your attachment to beliefs and blood ties and desires and comforting habits. Don't listen to them! They seem to protect but they imprison.

They are your worst enemies. They make you afraid of living in emptiness.Some day you'll weep tears of delight in that court, remembering your mistaken parents!Know that your body nurtures the spirit, helps it grow, and gives it wrong advise.The body becomes, eventually, like a vest of chain mail in peaceful years, too hot in summer and too cold in winter.

But the body's desires, in another way, are like an unpredictable associate, whom you must be patient with. And that companion is helpful, because patience expands your capacity to love and feel peace. The patience of a rose close to a thorn keeps it fragrant. It's patience that gives milk to the male camel still nursing in its third year, and patience is what the prophets show to us.

The beauty of careful sewing on a shirt is the patience it contains.Friendship and loyalty have patience as the strength of their connection.Feeling lonely and ignoble indicates that you haven't been patient.

Be with those who mix with God as honey blends with milk, and say,"Anything that comes and goes, rises and sets, is not what I love." else you'll be like a caravan fire left to flare itself out alone beside the road.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Once again, Kelly (www.kellyrae.blogspot.com) posts a snippet about Portland, OR and it sends me into a tailspin of memories. The Hawthorne District of Portland is a hippy liberal paradise. I absolutely adored every sublime inch. The biggest memory her blog brought back was about a Goddess Temple there. I can't remember the name, and when I looked I couldn't find it online. It has been 6 years, and is probably gone by now.But it was there when I needed it, after my aunt Tish died of lung cancer in October, 1999. It was a huge Victorian house with a wild and perfect garden on all four sides. They never questioned my motives, just gave me a tour of the house and told me I was welcome to all they had. Each public room was dedicated to a particular deity or usage.

I wanted only to commune with Kali Ma (http://www.themystica.org/mythical-folk/articles/kali_ma.html). My own patroness was, and still is, Hecate. Kali Ma is somewhat like Her, except where Hecate is old and wise, Kali Ma is furious. As I was furious and helpless over Tish's death, a death that came at such a young age (she was a few months shy of 40). I was 28, and hers was the closest death to me I had ever known at the time. I wanted to feel blood and taste blood. The Kali Room was blood, saguine red, with soft red pillows all laying on red carpet. I spent quite a few hours in that room, crying and asking why. I gradually came to the conclusion that it was not my place to ask why, just to deal with what happens. It was a cleansing, and very useful lesson that would serve me well later in life.

I often wish that a place like that was here in Lexington. But, I don't think magick like that really could exist anywhere else. Portland, especially Hawthorne district, has a spell all its own. McMennamins has the best beer, and the shops added a presence. Lexington is too Southern, a different vibe. I so miss it sometimes....thanks again Kelly.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

I have been following Cindy Sheehan's story for the past week now. It's only been today that I have been compelled to write. To begin here is something about her:Cindy Sheehan was a normal housewife from a normal family, with 4 healthy children from California. She bothered no one and minded her business. Many would have called her the picture of normal American middle class values. Then her son Casey, a father of twins himself, was killed in the line of duty in Iraq. Devastated by her loss, she eventually met with our "president" (my quotation marks). To Cindy, his reaction to her seemed remote and unfeeling. A few weeks later, Dubya called her son's death "noble". That's what set this otherwise placid woman off.She wants to meet Bush again and ask him some fairly simple questions: what made her son's death noble? If it was so noble, why isn't Bush's two hellion daughters in the armed forces, in Iraq? And finally, she wants to ask him to quit using her son as an example to boost morale about an immoral war.This is not an unreasonable request. She is camped out a few miles from his ranch in Crawford Texas until she gets her answers. What got my nickers in a bunch about the whole thing was one woman's criticism about Cindy Sheehan. This woman, the mother of a serviceman, claimed Cindy was disrespecting the troops, that Cindy doesn't support them.....This woman is trying to make sense of her son's death, and have the troops that are on duty returned home safe and sound. What is disrespectful about wanting our troops out of harm's way? What is disrespectful on wanting accountability for the death of her son that was caused by a war based on a LIE!!! Bush started this war on a lie, there were never WMS in Iraq. What do you call a president that uses thousands of American troops in a personal vendetta, not giving a flying fuck if they live or die? What do you call a man who personal agenda is the ends that justifies the means, at the cost of American lives? I have many names for such a man: Satan, Hitler, despot, lunatic, sociopath. My favorite is Scumfuck....I consider this woman my hero....and here are ways we can help her. The following comes from the website http://www.meetwithcindy.org/

What you can do to help:1. Come to CrawfordWe need your support. There is power in numbers. Join us in Crawford now!Crawford Peace HouseMapquestDirections to get there2. Help Others Get to CrawfordIf you can't come to Crawford, please contribute to a fund to cover the costs of assisting others with their travel and their stay in Crawford.DONATE to the Crawford Peace House.3. Contact the MediaAsk the media to cover Cindy Sheehan's request to meet with the President, and to cover the contrast between pre-war claims for why war was needed and current knowledge of what the facts were known to be. Here's how.4. Call the White HouseCall the White House and ask the staff there to contact the President on his ranch and ask him to meet with Cindy Sheehan.Comments: 202-456-1111Switchboard: 202-456-1414FAX: 202-456-2461E-Mail comments@whitehouse.govContact CongressSen. George Allen (Republican, Va.) has publicly encouraged the President to meet with Cindy Sheehan. Has your Congress Member and each of your Senators done so?Ask them to!

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Ok my life is now been broken down into a series of "what do to now" lists. Here is the breakdown:Financial;* Attempt to make a living at a 8-4:30 job at a university, failing miserably at it.*Atempt to augment living with being an escort, but it is a slow spell.* Attempt to augment living working for Mr B, but its sporadic.

Social;* Attempt to run a swing club with limited resources (see above) while owner VERY SLOWLY recuperates from illness.* Attempt to paint every blue moon.* Attempt to keep a incredibly fulfilling relationship going despite distance and time constraints (luckily this one is working better than the rest).

Emotional;

*Attempt to avoid nervous breakdown....*Attempt to avoid nervous breakdown....*Oh did I mention I'm trying not to lose it?

It explains the existential funk I'm trying to stave off right now, just the hint of depression in the air. I had an interview with another department today and it went well, but wont be much more money. I wont be attending SCAD, and have no prospects in the future of doing so, unless I learn the ancient art of shitting 100$ bills. I have another business opportunity I'm checking into, but its vague as of right now. Do I have any creative outlets going right now? Besides my clandestine affair with a 16 year old (Harry Potter) and this blog, I have nil. I cant paint, it just makes me cry. my sewing has hit nothing. I'm just got my feet stuck in the knee deep mud you call life and I cant pull myself out, and the one person who could help me yank myself out is too far away to reach, with no fault of his own. Sigh...

Monday, July 25, 2005

I know it has been a long while since I have posted. This summer has been hot and hectic and monumental.My pentacle broke away Saturday night. Ok a down and dirty lesson in magical items: they have a power all their own. When the reason for them being there is gone, they too will move on. When the chain breaks, the pentacle no longer wants to be worn. My husband's pentacle ( a pentacle is a 5 pointed star within a circle, one point up, worn around the neck, normally made out of sterling silver), which was hanging on his bed rail, disappeared 2 days before he died. It was the ultimate sign of his oncoming death. Thus, when he did draw his last breaths, my pentacle was on his heart to feel it's last beat. That pentacle has been around my neck for 6 years, only being removed for the most dire of reasons. It held John's essence, and his protection. It was the last remaining thing from that previous life I still actively wore. On Saturday afternoon, the chain snapped and fell beside me on the bed.I cried for an hour, out of so many emotions: grief, fear, and loss mixed with unfathomable joy and renewal. John's pentacle, the one he had custom made for me, had decided it's purpose was done. All the lessons that needed to be learned from his life and death have been completed. I can now remarry and have children with absolutely no remorse. This means I get a new pentacle to represent the new life before me, purchased by the man who will be the biggest part of my life in the next stage. I didn't have to explain any of this to Daniel, he was overjoyed when I told him and he knew exactly what he needed to do. This new pentacle will be more important to me than an engagement ring, because even though Daniel is a Christian now, he knows its meaning and importance behind the pentacle and respects it.I will still miss the man that pentacle represented, and the life I had and could have had. But the new life and the future is what's important.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Here's a bit of a challenge: Tell me the name of this song, you get a bronze star. Tell me the band, and you get a sliver star. You translate it into English, and you not only get a gold star, you get my neverending admiration.

Today I am 34 years old, or I will be at 5:30pm today. I am depressed, as usual on my birthday. I have lived this long and have accomplished nothing. I can't go to school. Daniel is 3 hrs away and wont be here today to be with me, from no fault of his own. I'll be running my own goddamn birthday party. I probably will get laid, so it won't be a total loss.I just wish I could shed the skin of this life, grab Daniel and run away to live our own life together. I could bartend in a tiki bar somewhere. Daniel could run the business. I could paint in the evenings, and we could start having babies......sigh.No I guess I will remain here and be a whore and be separate from him, for a while longer.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

It has been 19 days since I posted...LOL it sounds like the beginning of a confessional. I do consider this blog as a confessional of sorts, to allow the world to judge me honestly. Here I am, think what you will. I am 33 years old, and not really comfortable with he fact I'm turning 34 soon. Something happened, however, to change my outlook on aging.

I had a vision last night as I was getting ready for the swing party Daniel and I was attending. I saw a woman with deeply etched lines in her face, starting at her eyes. Those eyes were full of hope, even when shrouded with age. My hair was graying but still long. I was not unattractive. I had made a comment the previous day to Daniel, after he met my mother, that I hoped to age as well as she has. The vision only lasted seconds, maybe less. But it was long enough to scare me, and in a strange way comfort me.

I am a great believer in the powers that cannot be seen ( Goddess is the name I call it.). A week before my husband went into the ICU to die. I was walking home from a night shift at the university telephone center. I knew I had to rush home, shower, rush back to the cancer center, and tend to John's needs before I could sleep. I never really slept much at that point. Anyway, as I approached the corner of Washington and S.Limestone, a huge branch crashed out of a tree maybe 10 feet in front of me. Pieces of the bark hit my leg but I wasn't hurt, just very awake and scared. I stayed long enough to call the campus police to block off the street to clean it up, then started the walk home. It was then I noticed I wasn't alone. A huge flock of crows, as black as ink, were following me home. They would fly a block in front of me, land, and wait for me to catch up, then would take off again to repeat this over and over till I was home. I was so stunned from the tree branch, the the cloud of crows, that I didn't put the pieces together until I was in the shower. Crows are a omen of death. The were right in front of me, but slightly out of reach, and would always allow me to catch up. The tree branch was a wakeup call, the crows were telling me what was coming. I realized right then that John was never going to be well again, even though at that very moment he was responding to treatment. It was the Goddesses way of telling me to pay attention cause time was short.

I am grateful for the vision last night. It tells me I will be an old woman who has not given in to cynicism, and still believes in hope. I can deal with aging knowing that.

Friday, June 10, 2005

I was reading my friend Kelly's blog (www.kellyrae.blogspot.com),and came across her posting on love. Her basic premise was why bother. I liked the answer I posted in her comment box so much, I figured I would share it will all:

Kelly:I never thought I would fall in love again until I walked into a cabin in the woods and saw the man for me across the room. It wasn't meant to be love, it was a swingers party, for the love of Pete! I was supposed to screw him and then leave. The funny thing about fate and love is that it always happens when you least expect it or want it. When you are ready and not looking for it it will happen. As for falling for the wrong person..love is never wasted. Even if you are miserable, the lessons you learn is worth the pain and the passion. Love is like lightening Kelly, you can't plan it or control it. Like everything else in life, control is an illusion, especially where love is concerned.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

My blog is now a year old. This is the longest time I've ever kept a journal, and I think its been very successful. A lot has happened. I've rolled with several punches. I have grown as a human being, a lover and an artist. I have pushed not only my personal boundaries but those of society as well. I have felt pain and caused it. I have been the victim of violence, and the gainer of blessings. I have been let down and let down others. I have fallen out of love with a jerk and back into love with a more worthy man. My all time dream is within my grasp. And yet I still feel unsure sometimes, anxious. I am restless, sometimes too much. I hope the next year of this blog lets me work out the kinks in my life, and share even more.

Monday, June 06, 2005

Jack, Jack, Jack.....There is so many things wrong with what has happened this week I really don't know where to begin. You have been my muse for the past year. I have painted you into my art, written about you, dreamed about you. I considered you an exceptional human being: brilliant, talented, creative and quirky in a way only a witch can appreciate. Your writing and music touched a part of me that I can't even explain. And even though I didn't like Renee, at least she was exceptional to be almost worthy of you. This week you became common to me.

Wow a rock star married a model in a freaky rock star kind of wedding, after little more than a month of dating. You speak of the truth in the liner notes of the new album I received today. I received the truth about you. You are banal, and ordinary. You are so desperate to want us to think you are a normal person who only wants to write songs and be an Artiste. You cannot create art in a vacuum. Artists need people, you need the publicity as much as you detest it. You cannot have it both ways Jack. You tripped yourself up in the contradictions. You are now no different from any other grasping, crude rock star. You manipulate the media to your advantage like any other celebrity. True, you might be in love, but its with an illusion. The illusion who is blank and is whatever people paint on her. No substance, only fog and mirrors. Certainly nothing extraordinary, like you were to me. You have sold yourself out to the Rock Star Personae. At least I am honest about being a whore. At least I am honest when I say I will do anything to be able to put forth my art to the world. To let the world judge whether or not I am an Artist. I do not pretend to be some sort of Artiste above the commercial world, then use the media to push myself forward to become no better than the Brittany Spears' and Justin Timberlakes of the music world. I once thought you were a kindred spirit, now you are just a Rock Star who shares my birthday. The absolutely splendid, breathtaking music you have just put out is no longer a diamond to me, just ordinary glass. May the Merciful Goddess have mercy on your heart and soul when it falls apart for you, Jack. Because it certainly will. And may the Merciful Goddess have mercy upon me for worshipping you like you were worth it. You will still be in my art, but now as a mere shadow who once was credible, beautiful and astonishing..but no longer.

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Like I told you on the phone tonight, I slept peacefully for the first time since the last time I was in your arms. Want to know why? Cause I had my future wrapped around me, fitting my body and soul to a T. It seems that every time we are are together the fit becomes better and better. And even if I talk your ear off about trivial things, you still laugh at my jokes. You know who I am, and are the only person I trust to see the dark side. I love you Daniel.Love,Z

Friday, June 03, 2005

"I'm comin over
See me down at the station
By the lane
With my hands in my pocket
Jingling a wish coin
That I stole from a fountain
That was drowning all the cares in the world
When I get older
Climbin up on the back porch fence
Just to see the dogs runnin
With a ring and a question
And my shiverin voice is singing
Thru a crack in the window

I better go it alone

Down on the corner
See me standin
On a makeshift road
With the dust storm blowin
In a long black shadow
Pull a hammer from a coal mine
Down where your daddy was workin
Comb my hair back
Strike a match on a bathroom wall
Where my number was written
Drivin on the sidewalk
Lookin back and the sky is burning
In my rearview mirror

Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end"Semisonic-1998

I'm feeling a huge amount of guilt about Mr. Cool. This man is offering to sell some of his property to send me to college. He loves me and has for months. And I do love him, but not in the way I used to. I am desperately in love with Daniel. Yet I cant tell him that. Nor can I tell him that I love him differently now. I feel stuck. Daniel knows this dilemma, and tries to comfort me. This is the core of my funk right now. I feel like I'm using Mr. Cool for school money, but I genuinely love him. And yet, I cant have a future with him. I cant have a baby with him. And under no circumstances can I take care of another dying man. I was devastated when John died. I cannot psychically survive another life experience like that. I know that our lives are not guaranteed, but the likelihood of Mr. Cool dying sooner rather than later is better than average. I just don't know what to do.

Thursday, June 02, 2005

I love epiphanies, especially when they hit you like a brick. I came to several realizations about my life tonight and who I truly am. I am a whore. I am fat; I am ugly. I have no artistic talent whatsoever. I'm lazy. I'm stupid. I'm poor. I will never amount to anything. I'm useless. I made my husband suffer the last week of his life cause I am selfish. I care only for myself. I'm am sitting in shithole of an apartment in Lexington KY realizing I am a complete waste of oxygen. Why I am even here on this planet in the first place is a mystery.The only absolutes I have left in this world is this: I have a man who is wonderful and loves me. I have a mother and sister who love me. I have friends who love me. I have a Goddess who loves me. And maybe, if I can never love myself, they will teach me how.

Monday, May 30, 2005

I need to take a few minutes to thank a few veterans in my life for their sacrifice...

Gary:You were a shy country boy from up a holler when you were sent to Vietnam. You ended up becoming Forrest Gump. As a scout you looked for booby traps and retrieved pieces of bodies of kids your age to send home. When you came home yourself, you were almost shattered. You preservered. And in middle age, you married my mother. You have been the only true father figure I have ever had. I thank you.

Bill:You were a kid from a upper middle class family from Virginia. You joined the Air Force because you knew the Army would draft you the next week. You went to Vietnam to be cook, and had to fight when the Tet Offensive came knocking at your kitchen door. You came home also a troubled, restless man. You married my mother first, and engendered me. You drug us all over the country looking for a greener pasture. Then you abandoned us, actually me, to the emotional abuse of my mother's family. I found you again 22 years later. I rarely talk to you but you have righted your life and gave me mine. I thank you.

C.C.You were 21 years old when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Three years later you were in the Pacific going from island to island to fight them. You were one of the first soldiers to step into Hiroshima, dressed only in summer fatigues, unaware of what radiation was. You were wounded, and got the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star. You came back to Eastern Kentucky to marry a little teenage girl with Rheumatic fever who needed your medical benefits. You ended up having 11 children with that little girl, and are still married to her now, 58 years later. One of those children is my mother. I never got along with you, I still don't, but I do love and respect you. Thank you.

Johnny:You were a career Air Force man who flew bombing missions in Viet Nam while your family waited for you in the Philippines. During the Tet Offensive, you risked your life to keep flying into the combat zone to evacuate soldiers using a airstrip half blown away. For that, you got the Silver Star. You retired a Lieutenant Colonial, and raised your family, with my aunt your wife, contented in a job well done. Thank you.

Colin:You went into the Army at the age of 19 for college money. You learned how to fly Chinook helicopters, and to maintenance them, probably too well. You flew combat missions in Panama. You flew combat missions in Somalia. You flew combat missions in Desert Storm, where you had friends die in front of you. You went to Afghanistan, then Iraq keep the Chinooks flying. You have 5 combat patches and a year of service left to go before you retire. You think George W. Is a genius, you poor deluded thing. For keeping your boots on and back to the wall, I thank you.

Daniel,You went into the Navy for a better life. You became a corpsman, then started working with the Marines. You traveled around the world. Somewhere on this journey you met The Dragon, then started dancing with him, almost to your ruin and the cost of your life. You left the Navy in a way that you wish you could change, so much so you even mentioned going back in to right the wrong. I love you for showing me what true courage is. Thank you baby.

And thank you to all the service men and women who put your life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness on the line second by second. You serve voluntarily to protect what this country truly stands for, even if the Commander in Chief who sends you into harms way is unworthy to send you there. I thank you.

I truly thought I had seen it all, until my friend Scott sent me a link to a unique web site

http://www.mi-su.com/homepage.asp

This site is exclusively for sex toys for the idle rich made out of obscenely expensive materials. You can get a dildo made out of titanium and covered in gems and precious metals for $2000. Butt plugs made out of semi-precious stone go for $600. My personal fave was the rose quartz butt plug. All I can say is this: it must be nice having the disposable income for this stuff.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

I was really all set for depression today, as I was in 2003 and 2004. Like the previous two years, I awoke well aware of what day it was, and about what had happened 9 years before. But I felt the shift instantly. This had become like any other day. Work was as boring and mundane as it always was. I only mentioned once what today once meant to me, after seeing an engaged coworker's newly delivered wedding bands. I thought I would come home and watch the video for the first time since John died. The funny thing was I had no urge to now. Before, I was desperate to watch it, but too scared to. Instead I came home and power walked, then talked to Daniel for a long time on the phone. In the moment I listened to his voicemail I knew what had happened. I had come full circle.John and I had two weddings, a handfasting in Sept 1995, and a legal full wedding on May 25, 1996. I always considered the former one the true anniversary, the the second one was the nightmare, overdone wedding most women want. I never thought I would reach the day where I could remember this day fondly but without a twinge of sadness. But that is indeed what happened today. I realize now that I have finished the grieving process, and a new love has entered my life. I am now more interested in the life ahead with Daniel than the live behind with John. Daniel and I have know each other for only 2 months and I am realistic enough to know that it is too soon to think about handfasting. But the potential is there, and that makes a future.